Talib Kweli’s Beautiful Business Model

Jay-Z
had it easy. He faced few restrictions in his quest for money and stardom.
Unapologetically driven by material desires and founded on a platform of social
Darwinism, Jay-Z’s ascent to mogul-hood represents capitalism in its purest
form.

Like
most rappers, Talib Kweli wants what Jay-Z has—money, esteem, an audience—but
in his pursuit of these goals he’s been held to a much stricter standard than
Jay-Z. Long ago labeled a conscious rapper by his fans, Kweli is expected to be
above the perceived vanity of mainstream rap. While rappers like Jay-Z can play
anything-goes, Tammany Hall politics, Kweli must adhere to restrictive campaign
finance regulations or risk alienating his idealistic fans.

This
is Kweli’s unique conundrum: how to find commercial success when a healthy
chunk of your following cries foul at the slightest whiff of commercialism.

“It
can be hard on your pride,” Kweli admits. “You’ll read a review of your album
that says you sold out, and then you’ll start second-guessing yourself. ‘Well,
did I sell out?’”

But
Kweli says he’s learned to move beyond pride. Instead, he’s devised pragmatic
ways to reconcile both factions of his target audience—the masses that devour
slick, poppy rap, and the more vocal contingent that accepts only the
intelligent, beats-and-rhymes hip-hop that Kweli has been best known for since
his 1998 debut with longtime friend Mos Def as Black Star.

His
solution is to provide something for everyone. Last year, for instance, to
cushion the blow of Eardrum, his most
explicitly commercial album—one anchored by appearances from Justin Timberlake,
will.i.am and Norah Jones—Kweli tossed his underground fans a bone in the form
of a free (and, for that matter, freeform) online album called Liberation, an uncompromising
collaboration with alternative-rap producer Madlib.

“Trends
don’t affect the music that I make, but they do affect the way that I put it
out,” Kweli explains. “I could make an album like Liberation all day, but it doesn’t make sense to pay for all those
samples and to try to market and promote an album like Liberation in the way that you’d market and promote a Jay-Z or Rick
Ross album. But with an album like Eardrum,
where there’s slicker production, there’s more money spent on it, and there are
other major artists who are involved, you have to market it more aggressively.”

The
strategy worked. Eardrum was Kweli’s
highest charting album yet, but it sparked little backlash from underground
hip-hop circles, which were too busy fawning over Liberation to take umbrage over Kweli’s commercial concessions.

In
many respects, Kweli provides a down-to-earth business model for all rappers.
While the music industry spins out around him, Kweli has continued to thrive,
maintaining a steady buzz through online promotions, free mixtapes and—perhaps
most importantly—his live shows. He does roughly 200 a year.

“The
artist who is not doing shows right now is floundering,” Kweli explains. “You
need to be able to develop a live act and a stage show to cement your fan-base.
The idea that you can just put out a record and have it be a hit on the radio
works if you’re just trying to sell ringtones or hit a certain number of
downloads, but it doesn’t really sustain your career.”

Talib Kweli headlines a 7:30 p.m.
concert at MarquetteUniversity’s Varsity
Theater with the Rusty Ps on Tuesday, April 22.